


I'm not giving up

by nofeartina



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angry Stiles Stilinski, But fails miserably, College AU, Cuddling, Derek Hale Takes Care of Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale helps Stiles Stilinski sleep at night, Derek Hale is trying to heal, Derek Hale tries to protect himself, Derek is not part of the pack anymore, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Miscommunication, POV Derek Hale, Panic Attack, Post-Break Up, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Roommates, Self-Medication, Stiles also takes care of Derek, what is canon?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-08-31 04:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8564245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nofeartina/pseuds/nofeartina
Summary: They stand there next to each other as the silence between them stretches. Finally Stiles slowly turns to Derek, and Derek can feel him look at him closely. He lets Stiles observe him, can almost feel his eyes roaming his face as a physical touch that has the hair on the back of his neck stand up and goosebumps break out.“Do you…” Stiles starts, but then stops himself. Derek finally looks at him, and that seems to give him the courage to continue, “Do you want to sleep with me?”Derek fights the urge to touch Stiles’ cheeks that are flushing so prettily, but he doesn’t fight the smile. Stiles rubs his neck and says this sound that Derek can’t help but find endearing, and he is completely lost in this man again.“You know what I mean,” Stiles quickly continues, “not sleep as in sex, but in sleep…” He finally looks up to notice Derek smiling, and instead of having a snapping come-back, Stiles just smiles back tentatively at Derek.[ON HIATUS]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I have so many plans for this story that it just keeps building and building and therefore becomes longer and longer. I am at my wits end, I just wonna write something that is not 10.000 words++ dammit! But alas, it is just not possible for me. :) 
> 
> I have been writing this story for so long, that I just need to get it out there. I have not yet started writing the next chapter, but in my defense I have finished all the WIPs that I have had so far. So expect at least another chapter of this, just don't expect it, you know, tomorrow, because real life...
> 
> This chapter is not really explicit, but the smut will come later on, rest asured (and tags will be added then)! ;)
> 
> Also, this chapter contains some flashbacks, they are in italics so they should be easy to identify. 
> 
> Also, also, I don't have a beta, so mistakes are bound to be found. If it bothers you and are really horrific mistakes, please just comment and I'll correct them. :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_Your lies are bullits, your mouth is a gun. - Selena Gomez, Kill them with Kindness_

 

 

Derek hasn’t thought about Stiles for a while. It is not exactly that Derek has forgotten Stiles. He has simply been pushed to the same corners of Derek’s mind as a lot of other things Derek doesn’t think about. Or wants to think about.

When he finally does Derek is standing in the cereal aisle in the supermarket contemplating whether he should buy the wholegrain-very-healthy-and-good-for-you stuff, or if he should just give in and buy fruit loops, which he knows he will actually eat.

Suddenly he can sense someone coming down the aisle towards him. He doesn’t even bother to look away from the display, he already knows it’s Scott.

“Hey Derek. Whassup?” Scott says in that annoying Californian way that he has. Derek doesn’t even turn to look at him, just grunts a sound that somehow encourages Scott to continue.

“So long time no see,” he continues. This makes Derek look away from the display to fix his eyes on Scott finally.

He’s not really in the mood, so he cuts Scott off with a “what do you want.” There’s no need to drag this out. Scott only talks to Derek these days when he wants something from him.

A year ago things were different. Scott was proud to include Derek in his pack, and Derek enjoyed playing the knowing big brother. But this last year has changed that. Word got around that there was a new stable pack in Beacon Hills, protected by none other than the Argents, which made the big-bads less eager to come their way. So the threats became smaller and fewer in between, which in turn made the pack looser. Derek had skirted on the outlines for a while before he drifted from it completely. He didn’t really fit in anymore. They were all in their late teens-early twenties, with their entire lives ahead of them. He was older and still stuck in a fire that happened too long ago. He just couldn’t seem to move on from there.

Scott surprises Derek by getting straight to the point and saying “Have you heard from Stiles lately?”

Derek frowns and doesn’t even attempt to hide his surprise. Scott and Stiles are a pair, you don’t get one without the other. Even if Derek and Stiles… drifted closer in the immediate aftermath of the Nogitsune, he hadn’t heard from Stiles in a while. Not since he left for college. He just assumed that Stiles kept in touch with the rest of them. Sure that he was the only one left out.

“Why would I have heard from him?” he says, but what he really means is _why should I have heard from him if you haven’t?_

Scott frowns and begins to show signs of frustrations at Derek. “Nobody’s heard from him for a while. We’re beginning to worry.” And he looks at Derek like that is going to change his answer.

Derek shrugs. Once upon a time that would have worried him. Once Stiles was somebody he was extremely aware of. For a while they were close, close enough for him to include Stiles in the small body of people he _trusted_. But that was before Stiles went to college. Before Derek stopped being a part of the McCall pack without anybody trying to pull him back in. Including Stiles. Who obviously didn’t care enough either. Even though Derek knows they didn’t end things on a good note.

Scott leaves him then. Doesn’t even say goodbye, but does give him some sort of hand gesture that Derek supposes means goodbye.

Derek watches him leave and when he has finally disappeared from his sight, he looks back at the display. After a few seconds of deliberation he grabs the fruit loops and throws them into the basket.

When Derek leaves the shop he has already forgotten about the conversation. Almost.

\--II—II—

_“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Derek says and fights the urge to slap Stiles’ hands away. Along with the offending weapon he is holding._

_“It’s just a weapon, relax, dude!” Stiles says and turns the knife in his hands._

_There’s so many things Derek wants to do at the same time; yell at him, take the weapon from him, slap him, make sure that he doesn’t inadvertently hurt himself with the weapon, that he ends up not doing anything but glare at Stiles. Derek’s not even sure how Stiles got the weapon from Deaton in the first place. Or when Stiles and Deaton got to be so chummy that Deaton gave the weapons to Stiles instead of Derek or Scott._

_Stiles rolls his eyes and turns to leave, forcing Derek to find his voice: “Where do you think you’re going?”_

_Stiles doesn’t even hesitate, just keeps going. Like he knows Derek will follow. Which he does, off course. Goddammit!_

\--II—II—

Derek has put the last year to good use though. For a long time he felt utterly alone. After the fire he only had Laura, but he didn’t even really have her. He never told her about Kate. She never really understood why he felt so guilty about what happened, but he was so afraid she would push him away so he would have no one left. He just couldn’t stand that. So he lived with the guilt and anger, let it fester and infect everything, let it change him.

But for the last year he has started seeing a therapist a couple of times a week. Even though it took him a long time to open up to him, it has happened slowly, but surely, and he even has days now where everything doesn’t seem so bad.

Before… the fire, before… Kate, he was different. He was outgoing, easy to smile, privileged. He didn’t realize just how much until after. He was the middle child, in a family of 5 children. He’s not sure any more if time has changed his memories, but the way he remembers it, his life was perfect. He doesn’t really remember the days when it was raining, or he was swamped with homework, or his mother was a pest who wouldn’t let him use the car. What he does remember is what it felt like sitting around the table with everybody, just eating dinner and being a family. He remembers thanksgivings and birthdays and christmases spend together. He remembers his mother’s rose garden that she was so proud of, the way she would smile at him when he helped her weed. He remembers how it felt sitting in his father’s lap as a child, trying not to fall asleep while his dad watched the Sunday football.

It’s been a long time since he last saw them. His family. And sometimes he can’t sleep at night because it’s impossible to comprehend that he will never see them again. So much time has passed that he’s not even sure he can really remember how they smell anymore. Or how the texture of his mother’s hair felt between his fingers. Or what color eyes his dad had. Or how it felt to be hugged by Laura. Or just… how it felt to be part of a family.

 He wasn’t the most outspoken teenager but he could charm his way out of most trouble. He still knows how to turn it on, he knows most people are attracted to him, especially when he smiles, and he still sometimes uses it to his advantage even though it makes him fell itchy all over doing it.

He hates being judged by the way he looks now. Sometimes he thinks that if he were ugly, none of this would have happened. No Paige, no Kate, no heartbreak, no _grief_. No Stiles. He has had his heart broken so many times over by now, he is not even sure there is anything left to break. 

The problem is that Derek trusts too easily. That has always been his problem. After Kate he blamed himself for a long, long time for his naivety. It’s not like he didn’t know who she was. She wore her last name as an emblem. But he believed her when she told him what kind of horrors Gerard had made her live through, how she was done with that life style. He believed her when she told him she loved him.

Sometimes that thought will just pop up randomly, and it still hits him hard. Even after all this time, it is still the idea of how easily convinced he was of her lies that makes him nauseous. Makes him restless.

He thought for a long, long time after the fire that he was cured of his naivety. But then Jennifer happened. And he made a pact to himself to just stop getting involved. Apparently he doesn’t know how to not get involved. He still falls so goddamn easily. Which was also what happened to Stiles. He never planned to let him in. He never planned for Stiles to play a bigger role in his life. The obnoxious teenager, who was so inexperienced and just so eager, he completely took Derek by surprise. Before Derek knew it, Stiles had somehow crawled under his skin, made a place for himself there. But Derek wasn’t enough. He never was.

\--II—II—

_Their first kiss is unexpected, to say the least. Even though Derek admittedly had thought about it, albeit fleetingly, he hadn’t really considered how it would be to kiss him. Derek hadn’t even kissed a man before. Not that he hadn’t had the desire to. But for him, women just always had seemed easier, less complicated._

_If he had ever really let himself think about how a first kiss with Stiles would have been like, he would never have guessed it to be like this. That Stiles would have the courage to take control. That Stiles would be the one to initiate it. That it would be gentle, and not biting, rough and competitive. But there you go._

_Derek is asleep on the couch. It is at the ending of yet another movie-night where Derek somehow lets himself be subjected to one bad movie after another so he can bask in the company of everybody. His pack. Maybe it is the familiarity of the feeling of finally belonging that makes him let go enough to fall asleep. Maybe it is the fact that it is Stiles’ couch and he has long since admitted to himself that he feels safe here._

_Derek wakes slowly, blinks his eyes open to the knowledge that somebody is standing over him. He doesn’t really feel threatened, but that feeling will always wake him. The first thing he notices is Stiles standing over him, just looking at him. The second thing he notices is that they are alone._

_Stiles must notice him looking around, because he says, “Everybody went home. The movie ended long ago,” in this really low tone, like he is afraid to scare Derek if he spoke louder._

_But Stiles keeps looking at him in this way that Derek knows what means. But just doesn’t want to acknowledge. Stiles must take his silence and stillness as some type of clue, because he sits down on the coffee table in front of the sofa so he is suddenly much closer to Derek. Derek still doesn’t say anything._

_“You know, you are actually really pretty when you sleep.” Stiles says, and immediately looks like he wants to bury himself in a hole. “I mean, you are always pretty, but when you are sleeping you…” He shakes his head a bit, seemingly to stop himself from vomiting out more words, but then seem to decide to just accept it._

_Derek doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t try to hide the smile that is breaking through. He can sense the change that induces in Stiles’ biochemistry, can feel his body heat up. Derek is sure that if he tried to, he could smell the arousal off his skin. Slowly, Stiles leans forward, and somehow forces himself into a position where his lips are two inches away from Derek’s. Derek can taste his breath and can only just focus on his eyes._

_“I’m going to kiss you now…” Stiles whispers, and then he closes the gap between them. Derek doesn’t fight it, he kisses back immediately. The feel of Stiles’ lips on his is electric; he can feel the blood rushing through his veins, making him feel more alive in that moment than he has been in a long time._

_The kiss doesn’t evolve, it doesn’t get any more hurried or demanding. Just a steady press of lips against lips, almost tentative, filled with emotions that leave Derek breathless. When Stiles finally pulls back, he looks more put together than Derek feels. Derek can’t stop looking at Stiles’ mouth, is torn between wanting to run away and pull Stiles back in for more._

_Stiles sits up, really looks at Derek and must somehow like what he sees, because he then smiles. And it’s not a patented Stiles-smirk or even a full face-smile, it’s a quiet and private smile that Derek has never seen before. And that he somehow understands is for him only. So Derek smiles back and relaxes._

\--II—II—

It really isn’t until the Sheriff contacts Derek that he starts to worry about Stiles as well. The sheriff is perfectly polite as he stops by Derek’s table at the diner with the best fried pickles Derek’s ever had. He can see the worry on the Sheriff’s face as he asks Derek if he’s heard from Stiles. When Derek focuses on it he can sense the slight tremor of his voice laced with worry and the small shivers of his hands.

Even though he doesn’t really understand why he of all people is the person everybody seems to expect to be talking to Stiles, he answers the sheriff politely and even adds a sir out of respect.  

As the sheriff leaves, Derek has a knot in his stomach that has nothing to do with the fried pickles and everything to do with the feeling of dread sneaking up on him. Having lost his appetite he leaves the diner and tells himself it’s not really his place to worry anymore. 

\--II—II—

He goes about his days, tries to act normally and ignore the way his skin buzzes with constant worry. He is watering his plants, which he’s gotten under the recommendation of his shrink, and he is actually up to three at the moment that he with the utmost care and concentration has managed to keep alive so far. Suddenly he just knows that he has to go check up on Stiles. He doesn’t know yet if anybody else has tried this, but thinks not. Stiles it at college a good 6 hours drive from Beacon Hills and everybody else has obligations; jobs and schools to take care of. That leaves Derek. So Derek leaves the jug he uses to water the plants on the windowsill, grabs his jacket and leaves.

He fiddles with the radio the entire way, and makes excellent time with just one stop for eating. He’s never been to Stiles’ campus before, but knows where his dorm is. He stands outside for a while, just working up the courage to go inside. He doesn’t go in until he notices the weird looks he’s getting from a couple of girls leaving the building. When he gets to Stiles’ door he knocks on it without hesitation, he doesn’t want to give himself an out. Immediately he can hear Stiles puttering about inside, like he’s putting on a shirt, and then the door opens.

Derek is bombarded with impressions straight away. Stiles is looking exhausted, like he hasn’t slept in a while, he smells like anxiety, booze and other people in a way that makes Derek’s nose twitch. Stiles is wearing clothes that doesn’t smell like him and is too big, and Derek zones in on a hickey on Stiles’ shoulder. He can’t help but scold himself for noticing, and remembering the words of his therapist, he takes a deep breath and tries to let go of the jealousy, which he has no right to feel.

Stiles notices where Derek is looking and covers the hickey with his hand before he says, “What the _hell_ are you doing here??”

Derek doesn’t know. But he says the only thing he can say, “You’re not keeping in contact.”

Stiles looks at him with big eyes and Derek doesn’t have to smell him to know he is seething with anger. “Yeah? You can all fuck off!” He turns to close the door on Derek, but Derek just puts out his hand and stops the door from shutting.

“Even your dad?” Derek says and continues, “He came to me to ask about you.”

And that makes Stiles deflate a bit. His shoulders hunch over and he can’t look at Derek. He almost looks fragile at this moment, making Derek’s instincts flare up, wanting to protect him. Derek fights them, fights the moment, doesn’t want to give himself away like that.

Derek waits for some kind of answer, but it seems that Stiles doesn’t have any. He keeps quiet, but looks away from Derek, like he can’t bear to look at him. Derek lets go of the door and takes a step back, more confident now that Stiles won’t shut it on him. He lets his eyes roam over Stiles’ face, notices the bags under his eyes and the unnatural paleness of his skin.

“Are you sleeping all right?” Derek can’t help but ask.

Stiles shoots him a dirty look. Like _you have lost any right to ask me that_. Derek swallows down the rest of the things he wants to ask him, and instead settles on, “Show me where to get the good coffee here.”

\--II—II—

_Stiles is all eager hands and hardly concealed looks. Derek tries to hide the way Stiles’ eyes roam his body when he takes off his shirt makes him feel, and even tries to ignore the way everybody seems to know anyway. He’s deliberately not rushing everything. Even though he finds Stiles’ eagerness weirdly flattering, he also realizes that it is precisely this that makes the thing they have unbalanced. Derek is older, and even if he really isn’t that much more experienced with men, he knows and understands how it feels to be touched and wanted for the first time. So he keeps slowing Stiles down, makes sure that he is with him on every new step that they take. And tries so damn hard not to instill the lessons in Stiles that he has had to learn the hard way when it comes to intimacy._

\--II—II—

The silence is tense and unbearable. Derek is not used to Stiles being so quiet, sitting so still. They are at the coffee shop, sitting opposite of each other, nursing a cup of coffee that’s really, _really_ good (leave it to Stiles to know the best places in town). Derek finds himself searching for something to say, kind of surprised that he is the one to have to break the silence. 

“So how is college-life?” he says, and immediately cringes. He’s so bad at small-talk.

Stiles just looks at him unimpressed. “Cut the shit, Derek!” Stiles says in a tone that he has never used on Derek before.

Derek’s throat fells dry and he takes a tentative sip of his coffee just to have something to do with his hands. He feels so out of place and awkward, and he curses himself for coming here in the first place.

Stiles starts to smirk like he can feel how uncomfortable Derek is and like he’s enjoying it, and says, “Look at you; all soft around the edges. Like a normal boy.”

Derek wants to leave. _Desperately_. He can clearly sense that Stiles is angry with him. Derek’s not really sure why he’s carrying so much anger around, in some ways it seems like Derek should be the one who should be allowed the anger. But Derek finds that just doesn’t have the energy to listen to Stiles like this.

Derek takes a final big gulp of his coffee, burning his mouth in the process, and then starts to get up. “Okay, I can see you are fine. I’ll let them know,” he says and is already looking at the exit.

Stiles grabs his arm, “Not so fast! You came all this way, the least you can do is drink your coffee.” He has this look in his eyes that makes Derek look towards the exit longingly as he hesitantly lowers himself in the chair again.

Derek seriously contemplates just downing the coffee, despite the hotness of it, so he can leave. But then Stiles bends his head, runs his hands over his hair, like he used to when it was real short, and says, “I want you to stay.” He’s looking at the table, like he can’t say it to Derek’s face.

Derek gulps, feels his throat click as he swallows, but then deliberately leans back in the chair. Like he could ever really refuse Stiles anything.

 --II—II—

\--II—II—

_Derek is having trouble controlling himself. He is naked, on top of Stiles. And from the sounds that are pouring out of Stiles, and the way he smells, Derek knows that Stiles wants him, that he is ready to take it to the next step. Derek knows this, but he has a real hard time removing his lips from Stiles’ neck. The touch of his skin is so addicting; the way the moles are slightly raised against the skin so he can feel them when he lets his hands slide over Stiles’ body. Stiles still has his boxers on, but he spreads his legs anyway and Derek slots into place between them, like he belongs there._

_Stiles is panting, whimpering for Derek to get on with it, to just touch him. Derek doesn’t even know where to start. He hasn’t really told Stiles that he has no experience with this, with men, and he knows that Stiles thinks he does. But instead of coming clean, Derek slides his hand under the waistband of Stiles’ boxers and grabs his dick. This is the furthest they have ever gone. This is the first time Derek touches Stiles’ dick and Derek marvels at how soft the skin feels when the rest of it is hard as a diamond. He tentatively begins stroking it, but grows confident as Stiles seems to really enjoy what Derek is doing. Maybe for once it actually works in his favor that he is dating a teenager._

_Derek tries to kiss Stiles, but Stiles’ mouth is lax and he doesn’t seem to be able to pull himself together enough to kiss back. Derek is enjoying this more than he thought he would. He can’t believe he’s able to make Stiles fall apart so easy. Derek shifts a bit and the movement makes him notice how hard he is himself. He pulls down Stiles’ boxers and puts his hand around the both of them. Stiles lifts his head to look down and Derek huffs at the sound that Stiles makes at the sight of the two of them in Derek’s hand._

_Stiles immediately lowers his head and shuts his eyes. “I can’t watch, it’s too sexy,” he says with a strained voice. Derek just wants to kiss him so much, wants to touch him all over and leave his scent deep in his skin._

_He settles on painting Stiles’ chest with ropes of come that he makes sure isn’t removed right away._

\--II—II—

After the coffee shop they wander aimlessly around the area for a while. Derek has his hands buried in his jacket pockets, trying not to show how anxious he is. The conversation has been flowing more easily between them, talking about stuff that doesn’t matter, but is making them both relax around each other again.

They have fallen quiet, until Stiles says, “I’m not, you know.”

Derek looks at him and notices the glances Stiles is shooting at him from the corner of his eyes. Stiles squints and continues, “Not sleeping. It’s getting harder and harder.”

Stiles doesn’t have to explain. Derek can remember the nightmares and the insomnia that followed the Nogitsune. Some nights it was really only possible for Stiles to sleep if he was cocooned in Derek’s arms in Derek’s bed. Derek had been worried about that.

“And I guess, I’m not really fine either…” Stiles says quietly, looking away from Derek, burying his hands in his pockets.

Derek keeps quiet. Knows from experience that it is so rare to have Stiles like this; without sarcasm, just being truthful. He keeps his eyes on the street, trying not to convey how eager he is to hear what comes out of Stiles’ mouth next.

“I’ve been self-medicating,” he says and Derek remembers the smell of booze (and sex) rolling off of Stiles when he answered the door. Luckily that is fading now, “I’m failing my classes,” Stiles continues, sounding embarrassed and raw.

Derek wants to hit Stiles and hug him simultaneously, but just clenches his fists in his pockets instead. He has to fight the urge to look at Stiles, he’s afraid that it will make Stiles clam up now he’s finally talking.

“I’ve been avoiding their calls because I haven’t had anything good to tell them…” Stiles finally stops walking, stops by a fence by a garden and looks into it. Derek stops besides him, and still doesn’t talk. He’s not sure he could even if he wanted to, he has a lump in his throat the size of Kansas. He can’t remember the last time Stiles were so honest with him.

They stand there next to each other as the silence between them stretches. Finally Stiles slowly turns to Derek, and Derek can feel him look at him closely. He lets Stiles observe him, can almost feel his eyes roaming his face as a physical touch that has the hair on the back of his neck stand up and goosebumps break out.

“Do you…” Stiles starts, but then stops himself. Derek finally looks at him, and that seems to give him the courage to continue, “Do you want to sleep with me?”

Derek fights the urge to touch Stiles’ cheeks that are flushing so prettily, but he doesn’t fight the smile. Stiles rubs his neck and says this sound that Derek can’t help but find endearing, and he is completely lost in this man again.

“You know what I mean,” Stiles quickly continues, “not sleep as in _sex_ , but in sleep…” He finally looks up to notice Derek smiling, and instead of having a snapping come-back, Stiles just smiles back tentatively at Derek.   

\--II—II—

_The first time they sleep together it happens completely by accident. Stiles has been to the loft for several hours, researching and reading and desperately trying to figure out what to do about the big bad of the week. Derek is emerged in his own tome to the point where he doesn’t even notice Stiles passing out over his book on the table. When Derek finally notices he can’t help but spend a few stolen moments just observing him. Derek leaves his seat to gently pick Stiles up and place him in his bed. He’s as quiet as he can be as he takes Stiles’ shoes off and lowers the sheets over his body. And then Derek returns to the tome he is reading to continue the work._

_After an hour of quiet, Derek suddenly notices the whimpering sounds coming from his bed. Stiles is tossing and turning and is clearly having a bad dream. And Derek can’t even begin to comprehend what kind of dreams a nogitsune could leave behind in a body after a possession. So he does the only thing he can think of. He lies down next to Stiles, scoots him up into his arms and whispers comforts into his ear. And the effect is immediate; Stiles calms down, his heartbeat slows and he is calmly sleeping again within minutes._

_Derek lies there with him in his arms and revels in the intimacy of it. After a while, Derek can’t help but fall asleep as well, calmed by the sounds of Stiles sleeping close by._

\--II—II—

Stiles is somber as he lets them in to his dorm room. As he enters, Derek is bombarded with smells, some more potent than others.

“You really weren’t kidding when you said you were self-medicating.” Derek can’t help but say as he picks up the smell of pot, booze and other types of intoxicants. He tries to ignore the stench of people that’s permeating the room.

Stiles doesn’t answer, just looks really uncomfortable and small standing in the middle of the room.

“Where’s your roommate?” Derek asks.

Stiles shrugs and says, “He’s not around that often. I guess he’s just really tired of not being able to study and sleep because of me…” That makes Derek realize that things are much worse off than Stiles has let on. 

Derek knows that this is going to hurt tomorrow when he drives home, but for now he simply takes off his jacket, hangs it over the back of Stiles’ desk chair and says, “So which one is your bed?” He stamps down the flutter in his chest at the way Stiles’ face lights up at that.

They turn their backs on each other as they take off their jeans and socks. Derek keeps on his T-shirt and can see that Stiles has done the same as he turns around. Stiles shuffles his feet awkwardly, pulls at the bottom of his T-shirt so it covers more of him, like that will stop Derek from noticing the bruises and marks on his legs. Derek tries to look away, but his eyes gets stuck on the hickey on Stiles’ neck, that is revealed again as the T-shirt is pulled down. Derek can almost taste how embarrassed Stiles is, and fights to ignore it. To help Stiles out he lies down on the bed and scoots over so there is room for Stiles.

Stiles carefully climbs in besides him. They lie there side by side, next to each other, not touching. Both just staring up at the ceiling. Derek wants to say something, but doesn’t really even know why he is doing this when he knows it’s just going to fuck him up.

After a long, stretched out moment of awkward silence, Stiles finally turns on his side towards Derek and says, “Is it too much to ask you to hold me?”

Everything in Derek is screaming _YES!_ but he closes his eyes and opens his arms. He never seems to learn his lesson. Might as well accept it. Stiles puts his head on Derek’s chest and his arm around his waist and then cuddles up to him to get comfortable.

Stiles hair is just under his nose, and Derek has to breathe through his mouth to ignore the smells permeating from Stiles. Everything in him bristles at how Stiles smells like other people. Like other people and _sex_. He has to turn his head away from Stiles, but the smells still linger in his nose. He desperately wants to leave. Has no real interest in putting himself in this position again. But he doesn’t. He just lies there and listens to Stiles fall asleep almost immediately. He doesn’t even take comfort in the steady beat of his heart, like he used to. Instead it just feels like a delicate form of torture. To have him so near, but still so far away. 

He doesn’t know how long he just lies there, listening to Stiles breathing. But at some point he manages to sleep as well.

\--II—II—

 _Derek is sucking a bruising hickey onto Stiles’ shoulder, he just wants to mark Stiles up so he doesn’t forget about him. Just to leave an impression of some sort. Stiles is panting underneath him, begging him to fuck him, but Derek can’t. He can’t give himself away like that, when he knows Stiles is leaving in a couple of days. They haven’t talked about where that leaves them, but the way Stiles is acting, it seems like there isn’t really a_ them _. Derek doesn’t want to be the clingy friend-with-benefits who talks feelings when there obviously isn’t any._

_Derek can feel the tears threatening to burst through, and he clenches his eyes shut to keep them from running over. He can’t look Stiles in the eyes, afraid of what his face might show. Instead he kisses down Stiles’ body and swallows him down._

_Derek sets a punishing rhythm, taking Stiles down his throat to make it hurt. To remind himself that he can’t have this, that he is worth nothing else but this. And he grunts in pain as Stiles pulls on his hair, but he doesn’t stop Stiles who seems to be enjoying it._

_Derek uses the roughness as an excuse to let the tears run free. He holds in his sobs as Stiles comes down his throat. As he leaves shortly after, still with Stiles’ taste heavy in his mouth, he can’t help but linger on the fact that Stiles didn’t even notice how Derek hadn’t been hard while they had sex._

\--II—II—

Derek wakes to the smell of weed. He can feel it tickling his throat, but instead of coughing like he wants to, he just opens his eyes and observes Stiles as he takes a long hit of a bong.

“Goodmorning, Sunshine!” Stiles says cheerfully, and if it wasn’t for the slight tremor of his voice Derek would almost believe it.

He doesn’t say anything, even though he wants to say _everything_.

“I slept fantastic, thank you for asking!” Stiles continues in the same tone of voice. Derek wants to strangle him. Or kiss him. He’s not really sure.

“Well, I didn’t,” Derek says with his throat burning. He’s looking for his clothes as he continues, “You know you could have showered.”

Stiles starts smiling, a small smirk that keeps growing bigger. “Yes, I _could_ have.”

Derek can’t help but stare. He’s done his best, has helped even though he didn’t have to. And Stiles is back to angry Stiles all over again. Derek sighs despairingly and gets out of bed. He starts pulling on his jeans with his back turned to Stiles, trying to ignore him so he can get the hell out of there without arguing again.

“You’re welcome to stay for breakfast,” Stiles says and Derek turns around as he is closing his jeans to see Stiles pointing at the piece of burned toast on a plate on the table, “or you could stay for a wake’n’bake,” he continues and takes another hit, making the water in the bong gurgle.  

Derek doesn’t even dignify this with an answer. Derek’s done with the self-medicating, after doing it himself for so long. He sits on the bed to tie his shoes. It’s quiet except for the occasional gurgle of water from the bong, and Derek should care, but he just wants to go home and lick his wounds. Try to forget about this, about Stiles.

As he pulls on his jacket he stops in front of Stiles to look at him. He can’t help but feel pleased at how the bags under his eyes has gotten a tad smaller, and Stiles seems just a bit less exhausted.

Stiles must sense his appraisal because he rolls his eyes. But he doesn’t say anything. And this is so unlike Stiles, the Stiles that Derek knew a year ago, that Derek just freezes. He’s waiting for the snark, for the lash-out, but Stiles just sits there comfortable in his chair, letting out smoke slowly, his eyes slightly clenched, and he just looks at Derek. Like he isn’t bothered by him, or like he hasn’t missed Derek this last year.

Derek finds himself clenching his fists, fighting the urge to punch some kind of emotion out of Stiles. Instead he decides not to bother with it, he can’t win with Stiles like this. So he turns around and leaves.

\--II—II—

Derek drives home numb. He enters his apartment numb. He stands in front of his window, looking at the mug still full of water next to his plants and wonders why they seemed so important to him.

He’s not really sure how long he stands there, but when he finally wakes up from this numbness he notices that it’s dark out, and that his joints are stiff. He looks around in a daze, mentally listing all the things he should do. Instead he just takes off his clothes and goes to bed.

He sleeps for a long time, but doesn’t really wake up rested. However, what he does do is shake the dazed feeling off him, takes a long shower, and after breakfast he goes out to find the sheriff.

The look on his face when Derek tells him that he went to see Stiles and that he is all right is so rewarding to Derek, that he manages to shake off the feeling of wrongness completely, and very quickly get back into his normal life.

And almost manages to forget about Stiles again.

Until 6 days later when Stiles calls him in the middle of the night.

\--II—II—

_Stiles is packing his books into a cardboard box. Derek is lying on the bed watching him pack, and trying to ignore the pang in his chest. They are both not talking about it, how Stiles is leaving for college soon, how he has chosen one so far away. Derek doesn’t know why Stiles made that choice, he’s afraid to ask why Stiles made that decision when Derek knows for a fact that he was also offered full scholarships for colleges closer by._

_Derek passes the time just looking at Stiles. Really looking. Notices how he is growing into his body, still developing, how he has grown taller and wider. How the T-shirt stretches over his shoulders now. Derek knows that he has fallen for Stiles. Completely, because that’s the way he falls. But he’s so unsure of Stiles’ feelings. He knows there is_ something _there, but Stiles hasn’t said anything. Derek hasn’t asked._

_Derek is pushed out of his own head with a shove to his foot, and a smiling Stiles that says, “Why so glum, chum?”_

_And Derek’s heart breaks a little bit at how Stiles’ smile is not even a little strained. Like he_ really _can’t fathom what Derek could be sad about. What can he do but look away and shrug?_

\--II—II—

The first thing Derek says when Stiles opens the door for him is, “I don’t know what I’m doing here,” and it’s the absolute truth. It’s the thing that has been running through his head for the last 6 hours, for the entire drive to Stiles, and every second of the trip he has made a conscious decision not to turn back.

It’s always been like this. Stiles says _jump_ and Derek says _how high_. Derek must still have the desire to hurt himself, because he knows that this trip is not for him, it’s only for Stiles, and that he’s going to come out on the other side worse off. But he just can’t stay away.

Stiles doesn’t say anything. He just opens the door further to invite Derek in and he looks exhausted. He has bags on the bags under his eyes, his skin has a greyness to it that looks unhealthy and he generally just looks untidy.

Derek takes off his jacket, tries to breathe through his mouth to avoid the onslaught of scents that’s invading him. Scents he doesn’t want to partake in, or know about. He sits down on Stiles’ bed and starts unlacing his boots.

“Take a shower. I’m not sleeping next to you smelling like that,” he says without looking at Stiles. Stiles is reeking of come and sex, and he’s already exhausted from fighting the anger bobbling up in him that Stiles let himself smell like this, even though he was the one to ask Derek to come.

Stiles smirks, like he expected this from Derek. And to prove that he did, he grabs a pile of clothes, bath products and a towel from his table and leaves the room. Presumably to go shower.

Derek tentatively lies down on the bed, but immediately has to get up in order to preserve his sanity. The bed _reeks_ of strangers and sex, and Derek knows Stiles left the sheets like this on purpose. He takes a deep breath and unclenches his hands consciously trying to make himself calm down. As he goes on the hunt for clean sheets he promises himself that this is the absolute last time that he is coming to Stiles aid. He just doesn’t have the shoulders wide enough to carry the blame and anger that Stiles is putting on him anymore.

When Stiles comes back he smells heavily of perfume and Derek’s nose itches. He opts not to say anything, doesn’t have the energy for Stiles’ anger anymore, and just basically ignores him as Derek turns around on the bed to put his back to Stiles.

He closes his eyes, but is acutely aware of Stiles puttering about the room instead of coming into bed with him. When he hears Stiles sit down by the desk he turns around and pins him with a glare.

“I didn’t come all the way up here for you to sit by the desk all night,” he says and almost cringes at how angry he sounds.

Stiles glances at him, but Derek can see his jaw clench, can see that he’s deciding whether to lash out or not.

Derek ignores that, but turns all the way around to face him. He swallows his anger and gently says, “Stiles…” but doesn’t say _come to bed_ because that almost sounds like an invitation he has no intention of giving.

Stiles looks down at the desk and takes a deep breath. “I really hate that you have to be here in order for me to sleep,” Stiles finally says.

And Derek just nods. He can imagine how shitty that must be. Especially with Stiles hating him and not to mention the fact that they are 6 hours apart. “Well, I’m here now,” is all he says.

Stiles looks at him from the corner of his eyes before he nods and turns all the way towards him. He slowly gets out of the chair, and takes off his pants so he is in a T-shirt and boxers again. He crosses the room and cautiously slides into the bed.

Even though it is a small bed, they lie next to each other with enough space between them that they are not touching. The silence is awkward and tense between them. Derek can hear Stiles’ heart beating frantically and he can feel how tense he is. There is no way Stiles is going to get any sleep like this. Derek can’t help but reflect on how weird this is between them. It used to be so easy, like breathing. They used to be so relaxed around each other.

To break the tension Derek says, “You stink.”

And secretly enjoys the delighted huff coming from Stiles followed by a “Shut up.”

It seems to do the job and they both fall asleep quickly after that.

\--II—II—

 _Stiles leaves on a Thursday. He leaves Derek’s bed Wednesday night with a soft peck to Derek’s forehead and a non-descript “_ see ya later _.”_

_Derek is looking at his departure from afar, hidden by some trees. He doesn’t want to trespass, he’s not sure he would be welcomed at the scene, where Stiles is hugging his dad goodbye, and Scott is standing close by waiting for his goodbye-hug. As Stiles enters his jeep, he casts a quick look around, like to check if he has forgotten anything, and then he closes the door. Without any hesitation he starts the car and drives away._

_Derek keeps standing there for a while. Even after Scott has left and the Sheriff has gone back inside the house. He still doesn’t quite understand how it is so easy for Stiles to just leave._

_After some time Derek gets into his car and starts driving. The tears just keeps falling, but he ignores it, ignores the storm inside him, brewing and growing bigger, and getting harder to ignore as every minute goes by, as every mile is passed. Until it finally gets too hard and he has to pull over on some lone strip of the highway and he punches the steering wheel a couple of times until it creaks threateningly and the tears are falling so hard he can’t see and he’s sobbing so hard he can’t breathe._

_He lets himself have this meltdown. He lets himself feel the pain, lets himself embrace the hurt and the betrayal. And he knows that when he’s done, he is done with Stiles._

\--II—II—

Derek wakes up slowly. He feels safe and warm and just so goddamn _good_ , that he’s fighting to stay awake. He can feel moistness on his neck, like somebody has been breathing on it, and he is enveloped in somebody’s arms. He shifts a bit and that makes him feel the hardness against his ass, which in turn makes him notice the hardness between his legs. The hand resting against his sternum is slowly making its way down, until it reaches his briefs where it hesitates a bit. He can’t help but make a whiny whimpering sound that seems to get the hand going again, slipping underneath his briefs where it wraps around his dick. Derek sighs and rubs his ass against the hardness until it lies between his cheeks. He is pushed forward a bit, just enough that somebody can get some weight on him and that changes their position so the hardness is pressing at his hole through his briefs and Derek moans.

Somebody starts kissing on his neck, and Derek is still in that place between sleep and awake where everything is moving slow like molasses. He wants to stretch like a cat, everything just feels so good.

It isn’t until Derek twirls his hips to get the hardness pushing harder against him that somebody whispers, “Derek,” in Stiles’ voice that Derek suddenly becomes aware of the fact that somebody is Stiles. And his first awake thoughts is that this is such a bad idea, that he promised himself that he wouldn’t be in this position again, especially with Stiles. As fast as he can he pushes himself away from Stiles, which is such a bad idea as he is on the inside lying against the wall, which leads to him hitting his head on the wall and Stiles being pushed out of the bed.

Now fully awake, Derek leans forward a bit to make sure that Stiles isn’t hurt. What he finds is an extremely angry looking Stiles lying on his back next to the bed with a massive erection almost poking out of his boxers, which in turn makes Derek ‘s ears red.

There’s an awkward silence, like both cannot really figure out what to say about this, where they are just sort of staring at each other. Stiles just looks more and more angry and Derek is reeling, so far out of his comfort zone, that he’s surprised he’s not already jumped out of the window and left in his car. Stiles finally breaks it by muttering “What. The. Fuck.” which makes Derek lean back.

He closes his eyes and just breathes deeply for a couple of seconds trying to compose himself. He’s mortified and ashamed, and somehow some guilt is also sneaking into the mix and he just wants to go home.

He opens his eyes as he hears Stiles get up from the floor and Derek suddenly feels very naked with just his briefs on and his T-shirt rucked up showing off his abs. He can feel Stiles’ eyes raking over him, which makes Derek even more uncomfortable.

“What the fuck, Derek?” Stiles just repeats but this time it’s clearly aimed at Derek.

Derek doesn’t know what to say, but he tries to leave the bed as inconspicuous as possible, like maybe if he’s quiet enough he can just slide out of the room without Stiles noticing. Which is clearly not happening as Stiles seems to be booting up for a row with all his focus on Derek.

Derek is at a loss. He doesn’t want to argue. It’s been a long time since he sought out the fighting himself. But it doesn’t seem like Stiles is giving him any chance to back out, as he starts off with a “What the hell is your problem, Hale?”

Derek tries not to get affected by Stiles’ anger. He really does. But it’s so hard when Stiles knows all of his weaknesses and isn’t afraid to use them. Pulling on his pants he shrugs and hmm’s in the places where he’s supposed to, but other than that he tries to let Stiles get out his rage on his own so Derek can be left out of it. He tentatively puts on his clothes until he is standing in front of Stiles completely dressed, already backing towards the door and patting down his pockets to make sure he has remembered his keys.

He doesn’t really connect back into the shouting until he hears Stiles say, “…and I can’t believe how easy I made it for you, I made it so fucking easy for you to use me, for you to just take what you wanted from me and never give anything back…”

Derek is frozen and can’t help but say,“What?” but that doesn’t really get any attention from Stiles.

“…you know I was the only one who saw you were falling apart as well, that you weren’t just the big bad alpha everybody else thought you were, but that you were hurt, but that didn’t matter did it? Were you so fucking broken at that point that it really didn’t matter what you did to everybody else? That your actions had fucking consequences, so that the rest of us were almost killed times over, or that you fucking killed Boyd??” The last part is shouted and Stiles’ chest is heaving.

Derek hasn’t moved. He can hear his heatbeat roaring in his ears and he cannot believe what Stiles just said. He has spent so long trying to let go of the guilt of what happened, how he treated everybody else, how he was used by so many in so many ways, including having to kill Boyd, and it feels like all that time has been wasted, because he knows that what Stiles is saying is true. In so many ways what happened was his fault. But he never thought he would hear Stiles say it. Stiles were the only one who was there for him when Boyd died, the only one who comforted him, who understood. And Derek is stripped bare. He can feel his emotions becoming too big for him, crawling on the outside of him, itching on his skin.

“Yeah, that made you pause, didn’t it?” Stiles says with an evil smirk, like he only really wants to hurt Derek.

“Why are you doing this?” Derek croaks out, his voice rough and raw and he has never felt as unstable as he does in this moment in time.

“You know I’m going to keep punish you until you feel like you don’t deserve it,” is what Stiles answers.

And Derek can’t help the tears that run over. He doesn’t look away, can’t feel ashamed about them. He had somehow let himself trust Stiles, trusted him enough to know with absolute certainty that Stiles would never hurt him, not really. So he can’t help how utterly betrayed he feels. Betrayed by Stiles. Betrayed by himself for trusting Stiles in the first place.

Derek can see the exact moment where Stiles notices his tears. He can see the anger leach out of him slowly, the tension leaving his body, but Derek doesn’t have it in him to care. He just takes a deep breath and looks Stiles straight in the eyes and says, “This is me not deserving it. Don’t ever call me again.”

And then he turns around to leave. He has his hand on the door knob, the door open just a few inches when Stiles stops it with his hand. He’s standing behind Derek, close, so close that Derek can sense his breath against his neck.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” is what Stiles says immediately and he sounds so sincere that Derek pauses. “I’m sorry. Shit, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I said that, Derek.” Stiles pauses and Derek can hear his throat click as he swallows a few times, like he’s trying to collects his thoughts. After a few moments he continues, “I don’t mean any of it, I don’t think any of it is your fault. Please, Derek…” And he falls quiet again.

Every cell in Derek’s body is telling him to flee but he has to know, he has to get some kind of closure after all this time. And he knows that if he leaves now, he’ll never be able to be in the same room as Stiles again. And maybe not looking Stiles in the eyes makes it easier to ask the hard questions, so he takes a deep breath and asks, “Why are you so angry with me?”

Stiles huffs and the burst of air over the back of Derek’s neck makes goosebumps break out all over his body. “I guess it’s more a situation of it being me I’m so angry at. I just…” he pauses and then says, “I thought we had something.” Stiles says the last part so low that Derek isn’t really sure he was supposed to hear it.

He has to look Stiles in the eyes, he has to know, so he closes the door and turns around to face Stiles. Stiles keeps his hand on the door, like he wants to make sure Derek doesn’t go anywhere, which forces Derek to lean back into the door. It’s like some bad pose from a teenage magazine. They are standing so close to each other that Derek can smell Stiles’ morning breath and see the bags under his eyes clearly. Stiles is completely focused on Derek, the tension rising with each shared breath.

“We did.” Derek finally says. His tears has stopped but his cheeks are still wet. He doesn’t dry them off, doesn’t want this moment to be disturbed, afraid that the simplest of movements or loud sounds will shatter it.

Stiles looks at him with something akin desperation in his eyes. “I don’t understand. If you felt it too, why didn’t you want me?” And he looks so lost that Derek can’t help but reach out to him and grab hold of his T-shirt.

He looks down at the fabric clenched in his fist and says, “You just left. You didn’t want _me_.”

Stiles makes this broken sound in his throat that makes Derek look up at him again, and then he takes a step closer to Derek, closing the distance between them, so they are only inches apart. “I’ve always wanted you,” he whispers, and Derek fights the wave of hope washing over him.    

Derek exhales shakenly, eyes flitting between Stiles’, trying to match the sincerity in them to his heartbeat. It would be so easy for him to lean in and kiss Stiles. They are so close to each other. And a part of Derek really wants to, to just pick it up where they left off. But Derek can feel it in every fiber of his being that he just _can’t_. He’s too hurt and too broken, and it wouldn’t solve anything. Derek recognizes how a kiss now would just keep them in this toxic place they’ve backed themselves into. So instead of leaning forward, he uses the hand grabbing onto Stiles’ T-shirt to gently push Stiles away.

“I can’t… Stiles, I can’t…” Derek says and Stiles slowly takes a step back. Derek keeps his grip on the T-shirt, afraid to let go. Afraid of how far away Stiles will go if he does. The distance makes it easier for Derek to continue,  “I never stopped wanting you. But I just can’t jump back into something. I’ve just started to heal, and you’re…” Derek stops here, not really sure how to continue that sentence without ruining everything.

Stiles just nods and looks so resigned. He looks down at Derek’s chest, can’t look him in the eyes as he says, “yeah, no. I get that. I wouldn’t want to be with me either,” and then he buries his hand in his hair.

Derek shakes his head and tries to catch Stiles’ eyes again. “No, I’m not saying that. I’m afraid if we just jump back into what we had I will fall back into my old habits. I don’t want to go back,” Derek says and puts his other hand on Stiles’ shoulder, “I want to go forward. I want to help you get better,  Stiles.”

Stiles looks at him, desperation seeping from his every pore. “You mean that?” Stiles croaks.

Derek looks him straight in the eyes and says, “Yes. I want to be there for you now.” Stiles blinks at him, and Derek can’t help but add, “If you want me to…”

Stiles takes a deep breath and takes a step forward, right into Derek, to envelope him in his arms. Derek has to hug him back, and can’t help but close his eyes and enjoy how right it feels to have him in his arms.

“I would really like that,” Stiles whispers right into Derek’s ear.

Having Stiles like this in his arms finally makes all the tension bleed out of Derek. Tension he doesn’t even know he has in his body, but he can feel himself become softer and he can’t help but think that this is a good thing. Obviously they still have so much to talk about and so much stuff to figure out. But Derek lets himself forget it for a while, lets himself enjoy this moment. And as his senses are flooded with Stiles and his scent and his touch, he can’t help but smile and feel like things might just work out after all.


	2. Chapter 2

_I was dissapearing in plain sight, Heaven help me, I need to make it right - Florence + the machine, No Light, No light_

 

Derek wakes with a start. He’s too hot and momentarily confused before he realizes where he is. He turns his head to look at Stiles who is sleeping soundly next to him. He looks at peace, well-rested for once. The bags under his eyes are disappearing and the tone of his skin has returned to normal. He even smells healthier now, but maybe that is also due to Derek feeding him healthy food now.

The ghosts of his dream are still with him and he knows he’s not going to get any more sleep tonight. He sighs and gets out of the bed as quietly as he can, trying his hardest not to wake Stiles. He’s still trying to get used to the new apartment, even after a couple of weeks it doesn’t quite feel like his yet. He still hasn’t learned all the noises and smells of the apartment.

He stands in front of the windows in the living room looking out into the street. They are at the top floor so the view is all right. Sometimes this is the only thing that will appease him when he’s restless; standing watch. He’ll never tell Stiles this, even as he’s doing it he knows he is such a cliché and Stiles would never let it go.

Derek knows that he could probably go to therapy for years and years and he still wouldn’t be able to lose this urgency to be hypervigilant. He still enters a room and looks for all the exits before he does anything else. His ears are constantly on the look-out for certain sounds that will immediately set him off. After years of living like he has, with constantly being threatened and tortured and belittled for being who he is, he just cannot see a way out of it. Sure he has mellowed some, and the therapy has helped in so many ways, and will continue to make him better, but he will just never be _well_.

A snoring sound comes from the bedroom and grabs his complete attention. He stays alert for a couple of seconds to see if it’s followed by something else. Some nights Stiles just goes off, and Derek still has a hard time figuring out what will instigate it.

Derek has been living with Stiles for a month now. That night, he promised Stiles that he would help, and he has kept his promise. He has found an apartment close to campus where they stay together, he makes sure that Stiles is eating right, is studying and he tries to keep the self-medicating down to a minimum. Getting regular sleep every night has certainly helped with that, but Derek still smells the weed on Stiles. At least he’s not having sex all the time any more. Derek isn’t really sure what he would do with himself if Stiles came home smelling like sex and someone else.

It hasn’t been easy off course. Derek had sat Stiles down and had a long hard talk with him about boundaries and honesty and openness, things he’s really started to appreciate in his life now. And then they had talked about how lost Stiles was, if his grades were salvageable, if what Derek could offer right now would be enough. Stiles had looked at him and said, “It has to be.” And Derek had to stop himself from leaving.

Derek still worries so much if what he’s doing is right. He tries his best, he’s there as much as he can be for Stiles. But he isn’t fooling himself into believing that what he can offer will ever be enough. Stiles is still floating in a sea of guilt and self-blame for everything that has happened, and Derek can really relate to that. _Really_ relate. He’s fighting hard to get passed that himself.

Derek worries that he’s too broken himself to really be able to help Stiles like he needs. He has even told Stiles this, in the spirit of being honest like he himself has insisted upon, but Stiles had just smiled and told him that he was more than enough.

Stiles isn’t interested in getting any therapy. When Derek had brought it up, Stiles had totally blanched at the idea but hadn’t really delved into what he was afraid of. Derek had let Stiles brush it off, but he just couldn’t understand why Stiles didn’t want the help to heal. It was blaringly obvious that he wasn’t going to get any better on his own, but he just didn’t want the help a therapist could offer. And there was only so much Derek could do. He could help making sure he was sleeping and eating well. But he absolutely could do nothing for what was going on inside Stiles. Especially because Stiles was still refusing to talk about what had happened to him when he was possessed. Or whatever else was floating around inside him, hurting him and making him anxious.  

So Derek keeps watch. Keeps watch over their small apartment which is slowly starting to feel like territory. Keeps watch over Stiles as he sleeps. And hopes, _hopes_ , that what he can offer can be enough.

\--||--

When Stiles finally wakes up, Derek is dressed and eating breakfast. He can hear Stiles puttering about the bedroom, getting ready for the day.

When Stiles enters the kitchen he goes straight for the coffee and grabs the whole-wheat bagel that Derek made for him.

“It’s just going to be a short day, I only have a couple of classes today,” Stiles says already eating.

Derek hums and just turns the page. He tries to stop the shivers raking through his body in anticipation of the touch Derek knows is coming, but he still feels completely unprepared for how warm and soft the small touch to his shoulder is as Stiles passes him.

And with a “See ya!” Stiles is off and Derek is alone in the kitchen again.

The touch part is a relatively new thing. Within the last week Stiles has started touching Derek, not overtly or with a lot of meaning, but small fast touches. Like he is a tactile person and he just can’t help himself. And Derek knows that not to be true. Stiles is not very tactile, he only ever really touches a handful of people. Derek doesn’t really know what to think of this recent development. Especially as Derek has become a stranger to touch. In the last year or so, he can probably count on one hand how many times he has been touched by other people. So every time Stiles touches him, he almost feels like running away.

Derek dutifully reads the rest of the morning paper. And when that is done Derek stands to look out of the windows again as he finishes another cup of coffee.

He can feel himself becoming restless. He’s moved to the city to help Stiles, without a real plan for himself. And as the days go by, he can feel himself growing more and more bored. There’s only so much exercising and reading a grown man can do all day. He needs to go out, he decides.

So he grabs his jacket and sets out to explore his new city.

\--||--

A couple of days later Derek has grown to appreciate the city. He has spent the last few days exploring and he likes what he sees. The city has a mellow feel to it, and he is enjoying all the small pretentious coffee-shops and the quirky book shops that seem to be everywhere. Derek is just passing one of these obscure book shops when he smells it. He takes a step back and stops in front of the window to make sure. He tilts his head a little bit just to be able to smell better, and yeah, there really is no doubt about it now, he definitely smells werewolf.

He has a few seconds of indecision, of whether he should go in or not. He doesn’t really know anything about the werewolves who lives in the area, and he doesn’t want to offend anybody. He tries to suss out what kind of bookshop it is, but it seems like a nondescript new age-kind of bookshop. Like 80% of the other bookshops. Suddenly he notices that he is being looked at from inside, an elderly woman is standing inside and looking out at him smiling. Derek takes a deep breath and goes inside.

He comes out an hour later with a job and a smile on his face. It seems Mari, the woman who owns the shop. knew his mother, and wouldn’t let Derek leave before he agreed to take on the job. He feels warm and hopeful for the first time in forever. He loves books, always has, so this is one of the best things that has happened to him in a long while.

\--||--

The next months pass by quickly. Derek is really settling into the place, and feels at home in the city and in the apartment. He loves his job in the bookshop. His plants in the windowsill are flourishing and he cannot help the pride that fills him as the first starts to flower. He spends more time than what is probably healthy nursing the flower. Derek can feel the fond judgment coming from Stiles, but elects to completely ignore it.

Bottom line is that Derek is thriving.

Stiles is… not.

He’s not exactly declining. He’s just not thriving. He definitely looks better as he sleeps more and eats better. He doesn’t have those bags under his eyes, and he is slowly starting to fill his clothes out again. Derek tries to pretend not to notice that. Stiles has spent a lot of energy on catching up on school work to the point where he is no longer failing. He’s not at the top of the class by a large margin, but at least he’s still hanging in there. And Derek knows that it will only be a matter of time before he excels again. Stiles is too smart not to.

But Stiles still won’t talk about what happened. He still has nightmares. He still smells like weed, and sometimes Derek wonders if the smell of other people on Stiles means more than people he has just been hanging around. Derek hates himself for thinking about this. He never made any promises to Stiles. And Stiles certainly never made any promises to Derek. They aren’t together. Derek isn’t a bro helping a bro out, either. They are something in between. But enough of a something to make Derek not even look at anybody else.

But Derek is afraid to ask Stiles. And as Stiles doesn’t really tell Derek anything of importance if Derek doesn’t ask they just don’t talk about it.

Derek has tried plenty of things to get Stiles to talk, but it always just seems to shut him up even more. So Derek has slowly stopped trying. And now he’s concentrating on just being there for Stiles, taking care of him the only way he knows how.

But Derek can’t shake the feeling that Stiles is waiting for something. Derek just doesn’t know what.

\--||--

Everything comes to a screeching halt one day as Derek is working in the bookshop. Despite his good progress, despite knowing his triggers, despite all his therapy, Derek is still immediately overwhelmed and triggered as a woman enters the shop wearing the exact same perfume as Kate used to wear.

He immediately starts to shake and has to grip the counter tight not to start hyperventilate. He is fighting an internal battle to not just shift right there in front of all the people in the shop. The perfume fills the shop and Derek feels like he can’t breathe from it. His heartrate is climbing fast and that seems to alert Mari to his spiraling as she appears from the office, takes one concerned look at him only to guide him into the office and away from the offensive smell. She places him on the desk chair where he immediately slumps down and almost curls in on himself.

“Don’t worry,” she says as she kneels in front of him, “I’ll take care of this.”

When she leaves him alone in the office to handle the customers Derek closes his eyes and tries to fight the tears and control his breath. He’s counting between exhales and inhales and doesn’t notice the world around him or time passing.

When he slowly has so much control of himself that he opens his eyes again he looks up to find Stiles sitting in front of him on the floor. He startles and Stiles must sense the movement because he looks up at Derek.

“Are you back with us big guy?” Stiles says, but doesn’t make any move to get up or to touch Derek. Derek still isn’t quite up to speaking just yet so he makes a movement with his head that he himself doesn’t even know what means.

Stiles squints like he’s also having trouble deciphering what that movement means, but doesn’t mention it. Which Derek is grateful for. He lets himself look at Stiles. Lets himself take comfort in his smell and his presence. Which is probably why it takes him long minutes before he starts to question why Stiles is even here.

He clears his throat and asks “Why are you here?” He immediately winces, hating how underused and rough his voice sounds.

Stiles shrugs and says “Mari called me,” but he doesn’t elaborate.

Derek looks at his hands only to notice that he is still gripping the handles tight to the point where his knuckles are white and he slowly lets go, finger by finger. He looks at his hands, sees the color return and then places them in his lap. When he looks up he catches Stiles quickly looking away like he’s been caught looking at Derek when he wasn’t supposed to.

“What happened, Derek?” Stiles asks looking at his hands and Derek can’t answer, he’s just barely gained his control back, he just doesn’t have it in him to sit there and discuss all of his triggers and weaknesses with Stiles.

Stiles just seems to roll with it and gets up from the floor instead. He pats his pockets like he’s checking he has his things on him and then he says casually: “Okay, let’s get out of here.”

But Derek doesn’t get up. He’s still stuck to the chair, still too out of it to even try to make his legs work. Stiles looks at him patiently and then sticks his hand out to help him get up. Derek takes a deep breath and hesitantly reaches out until his hand is in Stiles hand, and the feel and heat of Stiles makes him breathe out deeply and he finally gets the strength to get out of the chair.

Just as Derek is standing Mari enters the office. She smiles and says, “Good to see you better, Derek, you really had me worried…” And Derek almost has to fight tears back because of how genuinely concerned she sounds. “I hope you don’t mind I called your boyfriend?”

Derek knows he should correct her, tell her that Stiles is _not_ his boyfriend, but he still has trouble finding words. Instead he looks at Stiles to see his reaction. But Stiles doesn’t look concerned, he just shrugs and says: “I’ll take care of him now, don’t worry.”

Mari smiles and makes room for them to leave. Stiles smiles back and it’s not before Stiles pulls him with him a bit to make him move that Derek notices that they are still holding hands. Derek knows he should pull back, but he _can’t_. It feels too good to be touched by Stiles.

Derek lets him lead them to the jeep. He doesn’t complain as Stiles opens up the door for him or even when Stiles ends up buckling him up when he doesn’t make a move to do so himself. Derek feels so out of it, like he’s not really at home in his own skin. It’s so much easier to just let Stiles take the lead for now.

During the entire car ride Derek just looks out of the window. He’s acutely aware of how detached he feels, he just can’t seem to help it.

Somehow, Stiles gets him out of the car and into their apartment. Before he knows it Derek is buried under a lot of blankets in front of the television with Stiles close by and a cup of how cocoa in his hand. Stiles is constantly touching Derek in some way; a hand on his ankle, a finger on his arm, a leg pushed into his. Derek enjoys it and can feel it helping. Derek finally falls asleep like this, completely surrounded by the combined smell of them together.

\--||--

Derek wakes much later and finds that it is dark outside. He is comfortable under his blankets but he notices almost immediately that Stiles is missing.

He throws the blankets to the side and gets off the couch in search for him. He can feel the stiffness to his joints and the slight soreness that lingers even with his werewolf healing. He heads to the kitchen where he can hear Stiles’ heartbeat. He finds Stiles with his upper body sticking out of the window smoking a big joint.

Stiles turns his head to look at Derek when he notices him and says, “Are you feeling more like yourself now?”

Derek sits down by the kitchen table next to the window and nods without really thinking about it. It’s true that he has connected back with himself, but he’s still not really feeling like himself.

“Will you tell me now what happened?” Stiles says quietly. The question makes Derek look away again, down at his hands and he can’t really find it in him to put words on it yet.

Stiles waits a few moments for some kind of reaction from Derek, but as it’s not coming he slowly looks back at the view again from the window. There’s a long pause before he says: “I get those too. Sometimes just somebody making a wrong sound will make me feel like I can’t even breathe.”

Derek freezes. He’s hanging on every word out of Stiles’ mouth and can’t help but stare at him.

Stiles doesn’t notice, or pretends not to notice, Derek’s reaction and continues: “Sometimes when I’m cutting something I get these flashbacks to how it felt sticking the katana into Scott. How it felt when I twisted it in him. How he looked at me. How it felt to be able to do absolutely nothing as I’m cutting into my best friend.”

He shakes his head and takes a long hit of his joint. Derek can’t help but notice how his hands are shaking. “Do you have any idea what’s it’s like to stand on the inside looking out on yourself hurting all the people around you that you love? How it feels to kill people you care about?” He looks at Derek briefly before he averts his eyes again.

After a long pause Derek clears his throat. “I do know how it feels to kill people I care about.” He says real quiet with closed eyes.

Stiles makes this sound in his throat and Derek open his eyes to look at him. “I don’t even know what to say to that,” he says looking at Derek with an intensity Derek has a hard time escaping, “but I could always try to tell you how that wasn’t your fault. How it will never be your fault when someone takes advantage of you.” He turns his head away from Derek and breaks the eye contact, “but it would be like preaching to the choir, right?”

Derek can’t help the small smile that reaches his lips. The movement feels foreign to him, like he can’t even remember how to smile. It makes him almost want to touch his lips with the tips of his fingers, just to see how it feels. If it really is a smile.

The silence grows between them. Derek can feel Stiles glancing at him, but keeps his eyes away from Stiles. He’s almost afraid what he will admit to if he looks at Stiles right now. It’s like the words are bubbling to the surface and he so desperately wants to keep them in.

“Okay, let me try this instead,” Stiles says, effectively breaking the silence, “how do you want me to help you?”

Derek’s head immediately swims with possibilities, but it’s too much, he can’t seem to focus on one.

As if sensing this Stiles says: “Do you want me to keep talking to you? Or maybe make you something to eat?” he keeps looking at Derek to see if anything catches his attention. When Derek doesn’t react he continues: “Do you want me to hug you?”

At this Derek looks up at Stiles. He suddenly desperately wants to be held by Stiles but he still can’t find the words to say what he wants. Stiles just nods and says: “Yeah? You want me to hold you, Derek? That always seems to help me.”

Stiles discards of the joint and turns towards him. Once again he offers his hand to Derek. It hangs in the air between them for a few long seconds before Derek tentatively puts his hand in Stiles’ and accepts the help to get out of the chair.

Stiles leads him by the hand into the bedroom. Without questioning it he lies back on the bed and opens his arms in a clear invitation to Derek. Derek hesitates a few seconds before he’s crawling in after Stiles. He lies down half on top of Stiles who just closes his arms around him and squeezes him. Derek can’t help but shiver at the sensation and doesn’t fight the urge to bury his nose in Stiles’ chest and close his eyes.

They stay like that for a really long time. Stiles doesn’t complain, he just keeps lying there holding on to Derek, like he absolutely gets how that is exactly what Derek needs. And he probably does. Derek feels the lingering tension leave him, and he doesn’t fight it when the assuring sound of Stiles’ heart beat lulls him to sleep.

\--||--

Something changes between them after this. Derek finds his eyes lingering at Stiles’ lips when he’s speaking or eating, he’s hyper-focused on every touch from Stiles and he loves the feeling he gets when he comes home and the apartment smells like them. He notices how Stiles’ eyes linger on him as well, like when he gets out of bed in the morning in only his briefs and it almost feels like a physical touch the way Stiles looks at him. Or how Stiles smells in the morning, like sleep and comfort and _Stiles_ and boner, that Derek just wants to pull him in and take a deep breath. Maybe run his tongue along his neck a bit.

The tension between them is rising, to the point where everything they say to each other seems stilted and laden with meaning, and it should feel awkward, but it _doesn’t_. And Derek understands why; he’s slowly lowering his guards around Stiles once again. He knows he should tell Stiles that things have changed for him, and he swears he will. He just doesn’t want his affection to be another coping mechanism for Stiles. So Derek waits for the right time to come along.

\--||--

One night they are eating sushi and Derek knows that this is the moment to tell him. They keep bumping into each other; reaching for the soya at the same time, reaching for the same pieces of sushi at the same time, and Stiles just looks so adorable with how he lowers his chin and looks at Derek through his eyelashes, like he knows what that does to Derek. Derek can’t help blush a bit, and he knows he probably looks struck because he’s so fucking infatuated with this man and he knows, _he knows_ , he has to tell Stiles.

He gathers all his courage as he picks up a piece and before he stuffs it in his mouth he says, “I need to talk to you about something.”

Stiles immediately stops what he’s doing to the point where the piece he was about to eat now hovers on the chopsticks a few inches from his mouth. He says, “This sounds ominous,” and puts down the chopsticks. He seems to need a lot of concentration for this because he stops looking Derek in the eyes and focuses on the chopsticks instead.

Derek tries to swallow down all his nerves and reminds himself that he is a grown man. He takes a deep breath and says, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but things are changing for me.”

Stiles eyes immediately goes to Derek’s, he can see them flitting between them and Derek takes that as his cue to continue speaking, “How I feel about you is changing.”

After a long pause where Stiles just keeps on staring at Derek, like he’s waiting for Derek to continue, he finally says; “Okay,” and he takes a deep breath and continues, “is that good or bad?”

Derek can’t help but smile and say, “I hope it’s good?” He looks at Stiles who raises his eyebrows and Derek can’t help but continue, “I think it’s good.”

Stiles tentatively smiles back. “So…” He swallows nervously and scratches himself on his neck. He finally looks Derek in the eyes again and says, “You know they never really changed for me.” He looks so young and vulnerable as he continues “I’ve been hoping that your feelings would change. But I have been happy just having you here.”

And Derek bursts with happiness inside. He _knows_ he loves this man. He knows it with all his heart. And he can feel how the smile stretches on his face in an unfamiliar way as he says, “I really appreciate that. I appreciate you not putting any pressure on me.”

Stiles smiles back in a daze and asks “Can I kiss you?” real fast. Like he has to say it fast in order to say it.

Derek just smiles and gets up from the chair. This time it’s him who is holding out his hand to Stiles, and unlike Derek Stiles doesn’t hesitate. He grabs hold of it immediately and steps into Derek’s space. When his lips are as close to Derek’s that they can be without touching he asks, “Are you sure?”

And Derek can’t help but huff out a pleased laugh as he leans forward and catches Stiles’ lips with his own. The kiss is soft and gentle and _good_ , and Derek feels like he is drowning in the best of ways. He is completely surrounded by Stiles’ taste, his scent and he can feel his skin come alive where Stiles is touching him. As they end the kiss they can’t help but smile infatuated at each other, and Derek pulls Stiles in for a hug. Stiles settles into it with one hand on Derek’s shoulder and the other on his waist, where his fingers gently pushes the T-shirt up a bit so Stiles grazes his bare skin. Derek can’t help but shudder at the feeling of Stiles’ warm fingers on his skin.

They stand like that for a long time, just feeling each other and getting used to being so close together again. Derek wonders if he will ever really get used to it. Stiles have always had this way of making him feel overwhelmed. But in the best of ways. And Derek is completely ready to start feeling like that all over again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this chapter almost killed me! It was just SO hard to write!! But now it's finally out there, and I promise(!) there will be smut in the next chapter.... ;)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!


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